all folks are damaged goods
by Emmel1118
Summary: - this can't be true He's Derek. He's the 'boy-in-the-bar' He loves ferryboats and has a lucky scrub cap. He's a brilliant father and the love of her life. He's stupid, sometimes, and infuriating too. He's her McDreamy, He's Derek. (and he's dead now) Oneshot - How Meredith copes (or doesn't cope) now Derek's dead.


_all folks are damaged goods,_

 _radical face, the crooked kind_

 _..._

WaitWaitWait

\- this can't be true

He's _Derek_.

He's the 'boy-in-the-bar'

He loves ferryboats

and has a lucky scrub cap.

He's a brilliant father

and the love of her life.

He's stupid, sometimes,

and infuriating too.

He's her McDreamy,

He's _Derek._

(and he's dead now)

...

The flashing blue lights flicker through the glass and

she _knows_

without anyone saying a word that the worst thing in the world that could have happened, has.

Really, with her track record, she should have expected it.

...

(a lazy Saturday morning, the day off from work, the kids still in bed, asleep.

The stuff dreams are made of.)

...

She hated him for a while

\- loved him for longer

(for forever)

...

He had beautiful eyes, and a beautiful smile and perfect hair. But she thinks she loved him even more when he was half-asleep, with his eyes crinkled and his hair messed up – because that was _her_ Derek.

((just _hers_ ))

 _..._

"Daddy's not coming back anymore."

She pauses, waiting and watching her little girl's face.

"He's gone to heaven, now, Zo-Zo, like Aunt Lexie did."

Zola nods, continuing to organise her doll's wedding, innocence in action.

"Do you understand, baby girl? Daddy's gone."

Zola nods. "Course I do, Mama."

...

Tomorrow, Zola will ask, again, where Daddy is and Meredith will tell her, again.

 _..._

It's unfair, really. She saves lives day in, day out.

but she couldn't save him

It's selfish really. She's swap any patient she'd saved in her entire life, for him: a life for a life and all that.

But she can't, of course.

\- it doesn't work like that.

...

They stood on the deck of the boat, once, the wind whipping around them. She reached out, took his hand, the gold bands caught the light.

He looked at her, like he always did, like he loved her. She smiled back at him.

She had forgotten about that moment. It didn't seem that important, at the time.

(now it's all she can think about)

...

She never got to say goodbye.

He just said, 'see you later', or whatever, and she believed him.

Neither of them knew, of course. If she had, she wouldn't have let him go, she would have held onto him like he was everything.

-which he always was, after all

but she's not all-seeing, she can't read the future

so she let him go

...

She never got to say goodbye.

...

Her children ( _their_ children) are going to grow up without a daddy. They're going to see pictures and they're going to ask – who's that? – and it's going to kill her inside, because he was such a good man, such a brilliant man and they'll never get to know him.

And he'll never know them. He'll never get to walk Zola down the aisle or watch Bailey's high school graduation, or see how their little boy grows up to break heart just like he did.

And they'll never get to grow _old_ and _smelly_ and _senile_ together, just like they promised.

...

It was hard when George died. A part of her died with him.

It was even harder when her sister died, her flesh and blood, her Lexie. Quite a lot of her was left in that forest, with her.

And now,

well,

it's damn near impossible now

\- she thinks, maybe, the rest of her died with him

...

People give their condolences ('I'm so sorry') but she wants to scream 'what have you got to be sorry for?' They weren't driving the truck that killed him. It annoys her. Strangers walk up to her, and repeat useless platitudes and she just nods and goes slowly crazy.

('cause none of them understand)

...

Except maybe Amy. She gets it. She loved him too, just as much, just as deeply, just as completely.

She knew him, all of him, just like her – knew what he was like, aged nine, as they waiting for the sun to rise on Christmas morning, excited as anything. Knew him like the back of her hand.

And she lost the man she loved too.

They're much the same, really.

-maybe that's why they can't talk anymore with yelling, without anger. Love burns into hate at the world, and anger too and remorse and regrets and all these emotions that are too big and too scary and too nameless that break them inside.

...

He used to tease her about snoring.

He used to let her lean on his arm and make it go numb when they watched the TV late at night.

He _used_ to do a lot.

It's going to take her a long time to get used to living without it.

((without him))

...

Sometimes she wakes up, and in the half light, with the empty bed far too big and the sheets far too tangled, she forgets.

She rolls over, expecting to see him, and his beautiful smile, but instead all that greets her is cold emptiness.

...

WaitWaitWait

\- this can't be true

He's _Derek_.

He's the 'boy-in-the-bar'

He loves ferryboats

and has a lucky scrub cap.

He's a brilliant father

and the love of her life.

He's stupid, sometimes,

and infuriating too.

He's her McDreamy,

He's _Derek._

(and he's dead now)


End file.
